


Shattered

by Snellby



Category: Batman Beyond, Batman Beyond 2.0, DCU, DCU (Animated), Justice League Beyond
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Gen, Justice Lords AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snellby/pseuds/Snellby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justice Lords AU, (Spoiler warning for Justice League Beyond 2.0 and Batman Beyond 2.0).</p><p>"The alien before him was just a shell of what Superman had been.  His eyes were broken and twisted; an unfeeling blue–the pale color of kryptonian crystal–his face lined from deep scowling, his posture tall and dominant.   Terry struggled in his grip, hands weakly clutching at the kryptonian’s steel hand; spittle forming at the edges of his lips as darkness edged in on his vision.   All it would take was a slight pressure, and Lord Superman would crush his windpipe.  Nothing more than a slight twitch, and the world would go dark forever..."</p><p>Terry finds his belief in Superman, among other things, completely shattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of the End

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't been keeping up on Batman Beyond in the comics, you might be confused by this! There are also spoilers up to the current issues, so be warned! 
> 
> Basically, this is a continuation of the Justice Lords episodes from the Justice League cartoon. So you might want to have watched that first as well. 
> 
> For the very small niche of people that this fic appeals to, I hope you like it! IDK if I'll continue it.

The alien before him was just a shell of what Superman had been. His eyes were broken and twisted; an unfeeling blue–the pale color of kryptonian crystal–his face lined from deep scowling, his posture tall and dominant. Terry struggled in his grip, hands weakly clutching at the kryptonian’s steel hand; spittle forming at the edges of his lips as darkness edged in on his vision. All it would take was a slight pressure, and Lord Superman would crush his windpipe. Nothing more than a slight twitch, and the world would go dark forever...

Terry’s thoughts wandered to his mother...and Matt. To Dana who had stuck with him even through his lies and deception. To Max who had become his closest ally, and a well-needed confidant...

His family...he would be leaving them completely alone, and they would never know what happened to him. He would just be gone, his body lying realities away, his throat crushed in the grip of a man who shared the same face as one of his childhood heroes.

Superman.

Terry’s eyes flitted to Dick, silently pleading with him....but the man’s expression was impassive and cold. In the background, he could hear T’s screams, muffled and distant...everything was getting too far away.

“ _Submit.”_ Lord Superman hissed in his ear, before throwing him to the ground. Terry gasped for air, hands snapping to his bruised throat as his lungs struggled to replenish his oxygen. Relief was short-lived as fingers tangled in his hair, forcing him to see just what this universe had done to one of his closest allies; how twisted and perverted he had become. 

“You look like  _ him _ .” The Kryptonian snarled, his lip curling in distaste, the pad of his thumb pulling at the corner of Terry’s eye; examining him like a cow for the slaughter. 

“W-what can I say?” The boy croaked, rasping for breath. “He had a t-type, right Dick?”

With a hiss, Lord Superman threw him to the ground, pressing his boot against the base of his spine.

“I should kill you.” The Kryptonian snarled, grinding his heel against bone. “But, if I kill you, you become a martyr, just like Lord Batman still is to this  _ wretched _ city.” 

Terry dug his fingers into the smooth steel of the roof, trying in vain to crawl away, arms flailing.

“ _My Lord, is this really necessary?”_

“ _Silence!”_

A sharp pain. An ear-shattering crack. Terry let out a cut-off yelp, before the darkness overwhelmed him...

And then, there was nothing.

* * *

 

“ _I did something bad, Babs.”_

Dick wasn’t sure how he could face her...how he could tell her what he’d done at the orders of Lord Superman. He’d left two kids at the mercy of that heartless beast...the beast who had plotted to murder Bruce in cold blood, who had hunted Dick himself down like an animal and threatened him into submission. His heart felt shriveled and dead in his chest. He was weary...tired of all of this. Tired of living at the end of a leash, of keeping his city in a state of constant fear.

He stood outside the door of their modest apartment, hands clenched at his sides, weariness settling down deep in his bones. He had to face her. He had to. She’d understand...surely she’d understand.

The door opened, Barbara standing there, eyes filled with sympathy that he didn’t deserve. He felt like bolting. He didn’t deserve any of her love.

“I saw the news.” She said.

“What would you have done?” Dick asked, refusing to meet her eyes. “Tell me you would have done the same?”

Babs was silent for a moment, her lips pursed as she prepared her reply.

“I don’t know  _ what _ I would have done.” She said, taking her husband’s arm, leading him inside the apartment, shutting the door so the rest of the world couldn’t hear. “It’s hard to say.”

Dick sat down on the edge of the couch, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t. He’d thrown two kids to the wolves...he hadn’t even hesitated.

What had he become?

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He finally said, the words turning to ash in his mouth. “Lord Superman wants me to look after the Mcginnis kid from the other world. It’s a...‘temporary demotion’.”

“To test your loyalty?” Babs asked, slipping a hot mug of tea into his hands.

Dick nodded, eyes staring hauntingly forward, the boy’s screams echoing through his mind...he could still smell the charred flesh...see the boy’s tear-stained face turn slack as he was carried away by the gentle hands of oblivion. He’d never forget how the kid was unceremoniously thrown into the helicarrier, how Lord Superman had ordered him to be quarantined at Arkham.

Dick shivered. He hated that place.

“Lord Superman didn’t...” Babs pressed two fingers against her forehead, mimicking the action instead of speaking its name. Their apartment was small...little ears could so easily be listening in.

“No.” Dick replied, taking a sip of his tea. It tasted of rose petals and orange peels...Babs‘s favorite. Maybe he’d have to smuggle a few packets away, to help him remember her while he was gone. “He might not walk again though, if he’s denied treatment. And honestly, what damage can he do trapped in a chair?”

Babs allowed herself a weak smile.

“I’m sure he could do a lot, if he tried.”

Dick shrugged, getting to his feet.

“Maybe he will.”

He leaned over, kissing his wife on the cheek, before shambling off to the bedroom, tying to ignore the sounds of the wall-mounted radio that spewed propaganda 24 hours a day. Every house had one, and it couldn’t be turned off.

“– _we were able to witness another triumphant victory by our dear leader, Lord Superman as he continues to wipe out the rebellion–_

There was a box of black market ear-plugs in his sock drawer. This might be his last chance to get a decent night’s sleep for a while...he’d have to make it count.

* * *

 

Terry awoke to white walls, and soft voices; fuzzy figures milling about above him, dressed in drab grey. Their faces were covered by surgical masks, their eyes peeking over the thin material, hooded and shadowed. Terry began to panic, trying to move his arms, finding himself tethered by his wrists. He couldn’t move his legs either. What was happening? Where was he? Who were these people?

A hand rested on his arm, followed by a gentle shushing.

“ _It’s okay, Terry. Calm down. These doctors just want to help you.”_

“Dick?” Terry rasped, shifting his head to the side, trying to blink the fuzz from his vision. The man’s familiar face swam into view–concern etched into his features–and he immediately felt at ease. Dick wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him...

His feet must be bound good...he couldn’t move them at all...instead, he delighted himself in fidgeting his fingers, idly watching each one move up and down. He was laying flat on his back...a radio broadcast crackled in the distance...

“– _Lord Superman and the Justice Lords continue their conquest of the other earth–”_

Suddenly, everything came back to him.

Terry screamed. 

 


	2. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m afraid that I can’t make it tomorrow.”   
> Dick could barely look his wife in the eyes, his face illuminated only by the light of the vidscreen in his lap, tired and haggard and worn.    
> Once more, Babs didn’t yell at him;  didn’t scream with the rage and the anger that he knew he deserved.  She simply nodded, her expression guarded and resigned.    
> “I thought as much.  I’ll tell him in the morning.”    
> “I’ll make sure to call.”  Dick said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.  “When I get home, we’ll take a trip to the park, or one of the old cabins in the country.  Just the three of us.”    
> “That would be nice.”    
> Babs didn’t sound too optimistic that it would happen.  To tell the truth, Dick wasn’t so sure either.  

**Chapter 2:  Guilt**

* * *

 

Kal avoided going to Gotham.  

He’d allowed the entire city to fall into decay, trusting it in the hands of an incompetent man, too soft to keep the population under his thumb.  He should have known better.  Now, gangs ran the streets, tagging and killing and laying waste to what had once been–even if just briefly–a utopia.  Bruce’s perfect vision of the world.  

The man’s statue rose above the towering skyscrapers, illuminated in the waning sunset, a warning, a beacon…

A memory.  

Kal shrugged it off, landing softly at the entrance to Arkham Asylum’s sprawling grounds.  It still looked like it’d been plucked straight from a history book, the grass flourishing, the gardens well-tended, everything neat and clean, just as it should be.  Arkham had never been under the Bat’s jurisdiction.  It was all Kal’s idea, to make a gilded prison for some of the nation’s most notorious criminals, to...alter their minds so they could no longer pose a threat.  Bruce had agreed with him then…

He walked up the long driveway, greeting the aging woman that had once been called Poison Ivy, accepting a flower from her now wrinkled hand.  Commander Grayson was waiting at the building’s front entrance, standing at attention, greeting him respectfully, before leading him inside.

* * *

 

The imposter was propped up on a mountain of pillows, his eyes closed and face slack, hooked up to various monitors and machines, wires poking out of sallow flesh.  He was asleep, looking all too much like Bruce once had, in the early days, when the man had felt safe enough to let down his guard.  

Before everything fell apart.  

“Did the results of the DNA test come back?”  Kal asked, turning away from the sleeping boy.  

Commander Grayson nodded.  

“You were right, Sir.”  He replied, still standing at attention. “We checked the other McGinnis boys as well; the ones in our world and his.  All of them are Wayne’s sons.”  

Kal had already known.  

He’d seen pictures of Bruce in his youth, seen those eyes and that jaw, and that bold determination before.  The boy had his mother’s face, but the rest?  The rest was all Bruce.  When he got older, he would grow into the voice, grow into the scowl, grow into the brooding, old man Kal had once called his friend.  

If he was allowed to grow up at all.  

Bruce’s ideals were outdated.  For the world to change, there had to be a little death:  all in the name of the greater good.  

But...

“Where are the younger Mcginnis’ now?”

“Both of them have been moved into our custody.”  Dick replied, his eyes falling to the floor.  “One has already made an escape attempt and was...was injured...He got further than we’d anticipated.”  

Kal allowed himself a small smile.  If Terry hadn’t gotten his father’s brain, the younger one...Matthew, surely had.  

“There’s something else...sir.”  

Kal pulled himself from his memories, glaring at the man he’d so foolishly trusted Bruce’s city to,  the man who had grown up in the Bat’s shadow, who  _ should _ have been just like him…but had turned out to be nothing more than a coward.  

“What is it?”  The Kryptonian demanded.  

Grayson hesitated a moment, before continuing.

“My son’s birthday is tomorrow, and...I was wondering if someone else could take over for a day?  I’ve been here for months and–”

Kal felt his eyes glow red as his ever-present rage bubbled to the surface.

“You’re here as a punishment, Grayson.”  He snarled, watching as he man flinched, ever so slightly.  “You allowed this city to rot.  Now you have to give your penance.”  

“I understand, sir.”  Grayson replied, with a short bow.  “I’ll stay here as long as you order it.”  

“See that you do.”   

* * *

 

“I’m afraid that I can’t make it tomorrow.”

Dick could barely look his wife in the eyes, his face illuminated only by the light of the vidscreen in his lap, tired and haggard and worn.  

Once more, Babs didn’t yell at him;  didn’t scream with the rage and the anger that he knew he deserved.  She simply nodded, her expression guarded and resigned.  

“I thought as much.  I’ll tell him in the morning.”  

“I’ll make sure to call.”  Dick said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.  “When I get home, we’ll take a trip to the park, or one of the old cabins in the country.  Just the three of us.”  

“That would be nice.”  

Babs didn’t sound too optimistic that it would happen.  To tell the truth, Dick wasn’t so sure either.  

Days had turned to weeks.  Weeks had turned to months.  He’d watched McGinnis grow strong enough to sit upright on his own, watched the sorrow unfold on the boy’s face as he realised that he would never walk again...as he discovered that he’d been spared merely to prolong his suffering, and the suffering of his mentor…

Bruce.

It was hard to imagine that there was a world out there where Bruce was alive...where the Justice Lords had never risen to power, and Dick had never had to sacrifice his loyalty for the safety of his family.  He’d often imagined a world where he and Babs and his son had lived happy, carefree lives, away from Gotham, and Superheroes, and fear.  It seemed almost too good to be true.  

He could only imagine the tortures his other self was going through right now...as all conspirators of the justice league were being rounded up and paraded through the portal to this world for detainment.  

But he couldn’t think about that now.

“How’s the kid holding up?”  Babs asked, her eyes growing sad.  

Dick turned to the bed where Terry slept, watching the boy’s eyes twitch beneath his lids, trapped in some unseen nightmare.  

“The bots did something to his spine yesterday.  Whether they helped it or hurt it, I don’t know, but he’s been sleeping ever since.”  

“Poor kid…”  Babs murmured, rubbing her hands over her arms and shaking her head.   It was a strangely vulnerable gesture for one of the strongest people he knew.

“Yeah…”  Dick replied.  “Poor kid.”

* * *

 

It hadn’t taken very long for their world to fall.  

Bruce had been relegated to hiding; Diana and Clark too afraid for his health (and honestly they were right...he’d never really recovered after his last bout in the hospital).  He worked the computers and coordinated attacks from afar as best he could, but in the end, his location had easily been found, and his voice had fallen silent.  

Alongside his friends, he’d been marched through the portal into the Justice Lord’s world, thrown into a cell barely big enough for one person, and left to rot.  He wasn’t sure how long it’d been, only that he could hear Danica sobbing in the cell beside him, calling out for Captain Marvel, who was seemingly nowhere to be found in their little hallway.  Bruce wasn’t sure what had happened to the man...but it couldn’t have been good.  

Lord Superman appeared one day, flanked on both sides by his robotic doppelgangers, cape billowing behind him, red eyes scanning the hallway as he search for his latest victim.  He yelled at Clark for a bit, too far down for Bruce to make out, but he knew that his friend was almost catatonic, weak as a kitten beneath the red sun lamps, and beaten to a bloody pulp in the final battle.  Kal, (not Clark, never Clark), eventually tired of screaming at his other self, and turned his attention to Bruce, glaring down at him through the glass, his ever-present anger bubbling at the surface.  

“You ruined  _ everything _ .”  Lord Superman spat, his eyes fading to a smoldering red that fizzed and sparked with rage.   Bruce stared him down, refusing to show fear in front of the Kryptonian’s intimidation, holding a hand to his bruised ribs, but otherwise sitting tall and proud.  He’d faced down Kal before, on his own world, going toe to toe with the man’s god-like strength, unwilling to show weakness, despite the fact that he was nothing more than a bag of meat and blood.  This Kal would be no different, especially after what’d he’d done...all the atrocities that he’d committed.  

“You have what you want, don’t you?’  Bruce demanded, his voice echoing steadily around his small cell.  “Our world is yours.   _ This _ world is yours–”

“Silence!”  The Kryptonian roared, striking the reinforced, bullet-proof glass between them.  Hairline fractures cracked along the surface.  Bruce didn’t even flinch.

“They were on my side,”  Kal continued, starting to pace.  “Until you came here–”

“We never would have come if you hadn’t  _ lured us _ here.”   

The Kryptionian growled, falling into irrationality as he tried to justify his twisted motives.  Bruce had seen it all too often with villains he’d faced.  The Kal of this world had long ago lost his way, his mind warped by grief and despair.  One death was all it had taken..

No...two deaths.

“All I wanted was to make both of the worlds safe.”  The Kryptonian said, pressing his hands to the glass in a brief moment of clarity, his eyes pleading silently, as if he wanted Bruce to understand, to agree with him.  “No more crime, no  more murder–”

“What about the murders sanctioned by you?”  Bruce snapped.  “The ones planned for my friends and I?”  

“I can’t kill you Bruce–”

His voice was raw and broken, almost too soft for Bruce’s old ears to pick up...but he heard.  Anger bubbled to the surface.  

“Don’t you dare try to tell me that.”  The man snarled.  “You killed the other me, simply because he opposed you.  If you think, for one moment, that I’d throw away all my morals, all my beliefs, to help relieve the guilt you’re feeling, you can forget it.”

Kal cursed darkly in Kryptonian, reeling away from the cell, clenching his fists at his sides.  The dark leather gloves pulled at the seams, popping and ripping as their wearer tried to keep himself under control.  Bruce refused to move, refused to show fear.  This was a man unhinged…

Finally, Kal let out a small half sigh, and shook his head.   

“You were always too brave for your own good, Bruce.”  The Kryptonian said.  “Facing off against gods, when you yourself are only a man.  Your son is the same way.”  

Bruce froze, his guarded expression faltering.

How could he…

Kal smirked.  

“I can see through people’s skin, Bruce.”  He continued, puffing out his chest as he regained the upper hand.  “I can see every part of someone, even their DNA.”  He leaned in close to the glass, his eyes crinkling in perverse joy, like some child with a juicy secret.   Bruce tried to stop his heart from hammering in his chest, knowing that the Kryptonian could hear it, but it was useless.

Kal knew.  

“Did you hurt him?”  Bruce asked, suddenly feeling all too vulnerable.  How could he have just thrown Terry into this world all alone?  Without any backup?  He should of done more research or, hell,  _ asked Diana _ about what had happened to Lord Batman.  Then, Terry at least would have been home when this all happened. 

He at least would have stood a chance.  

“He’s fine, for now.”  Kal replied, with an idle wave of his hand.  “A little broken, but still intact.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Bruce demanded.  

“I snapped his spine.”

Bruce growled, banging his fists against the glass until they bled, falling to the floor in a crumpled heap as his heart struggled to keep up with the rage racing through his veins.

“If I had thought that there was any little scrap of Clark Kent inside you–”  He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in pain.   “That wasn’t mercy!  It was torture.”

Kal took a step back, shaking his head.  

“I thought that you’d be happy I didn’t lobotomize him.”  

Bruce could only let out an agonized wail, struggling in vain as the door to his cell opened, and the hands of superman’s robots reached out for him, trying to maneuver him onto a nearby gurney.   His body couldn’t take much more of this.  Between his multiple heart attacks, and his liver transplant, and all his injuries from his days as the Bat...he couldn’t.  Something was just going to give, and soon…

If Lord Superman didn’t finish him off first.

“I can’t kill you, Bruce.  Not again.”  Kal said, stepping back to let the robots do their work.    “And, maybe, if I try, you’ll come to see things my way...like  _ he _ never could.”  

* * *

 

 


End file.
